


What's the Right Word? (Love)

by royaltyjunk



Series: the voice of the wind [5]
Category: Persona 3, Persona 5
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, Found Family, Gen, Pre-Canon, Sibling Bonding, Sister-Sister Relationship, but it's canon to me, i'm ready for everyone to scream that this can't be canon, it's not the focus trust me, puts fists up, the akimitsu is just there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaltyjunk/pseuds/royaltyjunk
Summary: So Sae had been referring to them when she told Makoto someone would be taking care of them for the next year. Distantly, Makoto wondered why they, of all people, would choose to help these parentless young girls.





	What's the Right Word? (Love)

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Ideas: Sometimes I hate my brain for storing up so many plot bunnies only to release them all at once and this is one of those times  
> Here’s my hot take on the “Akimitsu are the Niijimas’ parents” headcanon that I’ve seen around

No one dared to approach them after the funeral ended and the casket was buried. People left the shrine in silence, not another word said to the young girls.

It was getting dark. Makoto’s shadow stretched across the new gravestone as she stood. She reached out, tracing her fingers over the name carved into the stone. Niijima Isamu. Her father, murdered.

Makoto pulled her hand away as if she’d been burnt. She didn’t want to dwell on the thought. She didn’t want to believe her father had passed. She wanted to believe, even for a few seconds, that everything was okay. That her life was not different. That her father would laugh and smile at her when she came back and ruffle her hair and tell her she and Sae were his pride and joy.

She turned to Sae, meaning to ask what they were supposed to do now, but found her sister deep in conversation a young adult couple.

“—should be ready by March, yes,” her sister was saying. “My apologies for making you wait so long. I didn’t want to make Makoto leave in the middle of the school year.”

“It is no problem,” the red-haired woman Sae was talking to said, nodding. She turned to Makoto and smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Makoto responded. When Sae cleared her throat, Makoto bowed. “Nice to meet you. I am Niijima Makoto.”

“I am Kirijo Mitsuru. It is nice to meet you as well.”

Makoto stared at the woman, a dull sense of surprise managing to worm its way out of her caged heart. Makoto had looked up to her once, when Makoto’s mother had been alive and raved endlessly about how the Kirijo Group had really changed under new leadership, even as their leader was attending college in America. Mitsuru was her mother’s idol, and as such had become Makoto’s as well (by then, Sae already had an idol—their father).

But that was when her mother had been alive and well. Now both of her parents were buried deep in the dark ground, laid to rest in caskets of black and velvet, in beds of flowers white and pink.

“Nice to meet you,” the man beside Mitsuru greeted with a nod. “I’m Sanada Akihiko. Just Akihiko is fine.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Makoto murmured, bowing.

Her father had spoken of him before. He was a young police officer who had joined the department around a year ago, living temporarily in Takamatsu until his friend came back from America. She remembered how her father had smiled as he spoke of the newest officer in their squadron, how his bright eyes had betrayed his tired expression when they lit up with joy and pride as he received news of how Akihiko had chased down a thief in one of those high-speed car chases that seemed to exist only in movies.

Akihiko was murmuring something to Mitsuru now. Sae took the opportunity to glance at Makoto, reaching out to smooth her brown hair out.

“Are you okay?” Sae asked in a soft voice. Wordlessly, Makoto nodded. Sae tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind Makoto’s ear, letting her hand linger there for a moment before dropping back to Sae’s side.

“Sae,” Mitsuru prompted in a soft voice. Sae glanced over, and Makoto cast her gaze back to her feet and the shadow beneath her. It was so much easier to keep her head down. “We will handle the legal paperwork and the living costs. You simply worry about you and your sister’s studies until March.”

So Sae had been referring to them when she told Makoto someone would be taking care of them for the next year. Distantly, Makoto wondered why they, of all people, would choose to help these parentless young girls.

“We are in your care, then,” Sae murmured, bowing deeply. Makoto mimicked her sister. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Makoto whispered.

“There’s no need for thanks,” Akihiko responded. “It’s the least we can do for you, in memory of your father.”

Sae didn’t say anything on the ride back, just gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles seemed to go white. Makoto stared out the window and watched the fleeting shadows of trees and houses pass over their car like her father’s life.

~ / . / . / ~

“Good night,” Sae murmured, and shut Makoto’s door behind her as she left. Makoto set down her book, her gaze drifting to the lamp on her nightstand. Heaving a sigh, she reached over and turned the light off.

Her grip on the book tightened as soon as the shadows took over. She kept her gaze steady, staring into the darkness. The shadows outside shifted, and the darkness in her room followed suit. Soon, however, everything settled back into blackness. Almost everything in her room had been packed into boxes, leaving the room eerily empty and blanketed in darkness. Only Makoto was left, alone and unnerved.

She didn’t want to fall asleep. Falling asleep was a much harder task than it seemed to be.

She had been falling asleep that fateful night, when Sae picked up the phone and screamed. Makoto had jolted out of bed and rushed into the living room. “He can’t be dead!” Sae had yelled, and everything had become a blur of tears and shadows.

When she looked at Sae, she saw her father. The way Sae stood, the way Sae spoke, the way Sae glared. Sae would protect her like her father had.

But Sae would grow busy. She would have to work soon, to cover all the costs. The apartment cost when they moved out, Makoto’s school bills, **basic living necessities**. She was doing her best, but sometimes, she felt like her best just wasn’t enough.

Makoto blinked, and instinctively flinched. The shadows always seemed hostile nowadays, as if the darkness wanted to kill her just as the darkness had killed her father.

She pulled her knees to her chest and folded herself up in her blankets. Her book had been lost to the dark recesses of her room, but she could not even remember that she had been holding a book.

Her father used to read her his favorite books, all the way until the day he died (was murdered, the dark parts of her mind whispered). He would read to her until she fell asleep. He had protected her until the day he was—(her mind stuttered, and almost said died. She didn’t want him to be dead) gone. And now that he was gone, there was no one to protect her anymore.

The shadows began to crawl, little creatures with long arms grasping blindly at the edge of her bed in an attempt to pull her among them and devour him like they had devoured her father. She curled tighter into herself.

“Makoto?” Akihiko called, moments before opening the door and flicking on the light. She started.

And just like that the shadows had been chased out, and all that was left was the golden light of her lamp that illuminated her small room.

Makoto kept her gaze on her feet, unwilling to meet his certainly concerned eyes.

“Hey.” Akihiko’s voice was soothingly gentle. “Makoto.” He knelt by her bedside, glancing up at her. “Do you want water?”

“Yes, please.” Her voice was feeble and her throat felt dry. She swallowed. “Can I go with you?”

Akihiko frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She nodded as firmly as she could, and Akihiko stood, a warm smile on his lips that seemed to brighten the room.

“Alright.” He waited patiently as Makoto disentangled herself from her blankets and stood on shaky feet. Akihiko braced her with his hand, and together, they slowly made their way into the kitchen. Makoto sat down in the closest chair on the dining table, resting her chin in the palm of her hand as she stared at the wall blankly.

There was a click, and then the gush of running water being collected in a cup. Akihiko set the glass of water down in front of her and slid into the seat next to her. She took a sip of water, hands trembling as she forced herself to calm down. The presence of another person assuaged the churning sea of emotions in the pit of her stomach, and the shadows did not dare attack her in the presence of someone who surely knew how to fight them back.

“How do you feel?” Akihiko asked. Makoto kept her gaze forward, sparing a glance at the clock. Sae had said good night to her some forty minutes ago. That was how long she’d been lost in her thoughts, how long she’d been chased by relentless shadows unwilling to let her forget her past.

“...I don’t know,” she whispered. “Tired. Lost.”

Graduation was tomorrow—for the graduating students, and for her. Tomorrow, Sae would pick her up from school for the last time and watch Makoto bid her friends farewell for the last time. And then Makoto would leave Takamatsu for the last time. Mindlessly, she took another sip of water.

“I… I don’t want to leave, but at the same time, I want to leave.”

The city reminded her too much of her father. She couldn’t go to the shrine. She couldn’t walk by the police department. She couldn’t walk through the park. She needed to leave, needed to get out before shadowy thoughts of her father devoured her wholly from the inside.

Akihiko paused and then stretched out his arm, offering her part of the blanket he had draped over his shoulders.

“I—”

“Makoto.”

Sheepishly, she took the blanket he offered and pulled it around her, letting him tug her into a hug and wrap her up snugly into a bundle of comforters and warmth.

“I’m not good with my words,” Akihiko murmured, “but I hope you know that I’ll be here for you whenever you need me. Your sister is going to be busy, and Mitsuru might not be home all the time. So… I’ll be here. If anything happens, I’ll be here.”

“...Thank you,” she said in a hushed tone. Akihiko rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.

“Do you want to go back to your room?” Makoto shook her head, and Akihiko nodded in understanding. “That’s fine. Do you want to stay here?”

Makoto paused, thinking. The shadows wouldn’t hurt her—not with Akihiko by her side. “...Can we sit on the couch?” she finally said. When they were children, her whole family would crowd on that couch and watch television together. She and Sae had always fallen asleep first, their heads resting on each other and their limbs stretched out.

“Sure,” he said, not even bothering to untangle either of them from the blanket. Makoto stifled a giggle as they shuffled to the couch together, and let it out when Akihiko attempted to turn on the lamp only to have his arm restricted by the blanket. “Fine,” he said huffily, slinging an arm over Makoto’s shoulders. She hugged him, resting her head on his chest.

“What if I fall asleep?” she murmured.

“I’m not going to move you.” He smiled down at her. “Go ahead.”

And like that, she closed her eyes, completely unafraid of the darkness that had once kept her awake.

They were speaking in low tones when she awoke, sometime in the middle of the night. The house was dark aside from Akihiko’s silver hair and Mitsuru’s white dress. Makoto blinked, still barely conscious.

“Do you think they would have gotten along?” Mitsuru was asking, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Akihiko replied, and then chuckled lowly. “They would’ve. They’re almost the same person. ...Hard to believe it’s almost been three years since she—”

The soft tones of their conversation lulled Makoto back to sleep.

~ / . / . / ~

“Where’s Sae?” Mitsuru asked when Akihiko came downstairs. He shook his head as he pulled a seat out from the dining table.

“Studying,” he replied. Mitsuru frowned.

“Now?”

“She reminds me of you,” Akihiko joked. Mitsuru rolled her eyes.

“Would you like seconds?” Mitsuru asked instead, noticing Makoto’s empty plate. Makoto shook her head.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. Akihiko reached over to ruffle her hair gently.

“Go ahead. You wanted to check on your sister, right?”

Makoto nodded slightly and got up, smoothing out her skirt as she scurried out of the dining room and up the stairs.

Here, in the Kirijo mansion of Tatsumi Port Island, ghosts did not continue after her. Phantoms did not follow her, wailing for her to remember them. But she found their lack of existence unsettling. She had grown used to the presence of terrors in the absence of others.

She stopped at the room next to hers, looking inside. Her sister sat, her profile illuminated by the lamp on her desk. In front of her were stacks of books, all of them open.

“School still hasn’t started,” Makoto noted in a soft voice.

“I can’t risk not studying,” Sae responded, still flipping through her workbook. Makoto watched her for a moment, and then couldn’t bear to and left.

She awoke from nightmares that night, shivering in terror. Next door, she could hear her sister’s gentle snores. Taking up her blanket, she snuck into her sister’s room as though she were a ghost, footsteps light and breathing even lighter.

In the darkness, she could make out her sister, hunched over the desk. She must have asleep while studying, Makoto realized. With shaky fingers, she took her blanket and draped it over Sae’s shoulders.

“Makoto…?” Sae asked groggily as soon as the blanket was upon her. Makoto flinched.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sae shook her head. “You didn’t wake me.” Holding tight to Makoto’s blanket (that made Makoto’s heart warm), she stood unsteadily and made for her own bed. “Come sit with me.”

Makoto did as she was told, leaning into her sister as she stared down the darkness and the inevitable phantoms of the past that would surface.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Sae asked gently, brushing a strand of Makoto’s hair from her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “Father—” (Stop, her mind said) and she stopped speaking. Sae hugged her tighter.

“It’ll be okay,” Sae replied in a soft voice. “I will always be here.”

Sae would always be there. Sae would always understand her demons, would always know what to do with the phantoms that followed her around. Makoto could only nod.

Sae kissed her forehead. “Always.”

~ / . / . / ~

“Everyone, please be quiet.” The classroom became silent, and the teacher smiled. “I know that it is the start of a new school year, so starting from today, we will have a new student joining us. Go ahead and introduce yourself.”

Makoto bowed. The ribbon tied to her school uniform tickled her neck as she straightened up again. “Nice to meet you. I’m Niijima Makoto. I am in your care.”

“Go ahead and take the seat behind Nakatsu-san over there,” the teacher instructed.

Keeping her head down, she made her way to her new seat. Forcing a smile on her face, she greeted the students around her and slid quietly into her chair.

She couldn’t focus. Her eyes kept drifting to the changing shadows and silhouettes the sun made using the students in her new school as models. The people around her who had once seemed so nice began to murmur to each other.

“Doesn’t she seem kind of… lost?”

“Yeah. Are you sure she belongs here?”

“Didn’t you two hear? There’s some kind of rumor going around… apparently—”

Makoto forced herself to focus on something else, anything else. The arithmetic teacher continued to drone on, already failing to teach his class by ignoring the gossiping mass of students directly behind Makoto.

The day dragged on. She found no entertainment in the subjects she usually would have delighted in, things such as history or biology. All she could think of was how she didn’t belong here, how she missed her sister and oh, how she missed her father and Takamatsu; it had never been the best place but it felt more like home than any other place but father felt more like home, her father, her father—

She wiped her eyes when the bell rang, realizing she had been unspeakably close to crying. Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she left the room as quickly as she could. Behind her, the whispering continued. She tried to walk faster, tried to outrun the darkness but it kept chasing her and chasing her and it felt like there was no end in sight until she saw Mitsuru waiting for her by the school gates and almost cried again, this time out of relief.

“Is something wrong?” Mitsuru asked when Makoto approached her. Makoto swallowed and took Mitsuru’s hand, like a scared child holding onto her mother’s hand.

“...Can we go back to the house first?” Makoto requested, her voice barely above a whisper. Mitsuru nodded and led her into the limousine, never letting go of Makoto’s hand.

“Leave us be, Kikuno,” Mitsuru commanded. The maid approaching them came to a stop and bowed as Mitsuru passed her. Makoto nodded to her before following after Mitsuru, tightening her hold on Mitsuru’s hand. Mitsuru slowed down as they came to a stop before the master bedroom. “Akihiko?” she called, knocking on the door. When there was no response, she opened it.

Makoto stared wide-eyed at the large room. Their shared room might have been as large as her home back in Takamatsu, spacious and sunlit and well-tidied.

“Come sit with me,” Mitsuru urged gently as she led them towards a couch in the corner of the room, and Makoto glanced at her. “What’s wrong?”

All the wonder and childlike awe that had filled her soul since stepping inside the room vanished like light in the face of darkness. “It’s…” she tugged at the collar of her uniform, averting her gaze. She felt guilty, causing Mitsuru to become so concerned. She shouldn’t be fretting over Makoto; she had better things to worry about.

And, as though Mitsuru could read minds, she brushed back Makoto’s hair and looked her in the eyes, an unexplainably soothing expression in her eyes. Without Mitsuru saying another word, Makoto began to speak.

“I feel like I don’t belong at school anymore. I… I couldn’t focus at all, and people kept whispering about me even though they were acting so nice.” Hot tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt a rush of shame. “I miss Takamatsu.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I miss my dad,” she finally croaked.

“Makoto…” Mitsuru murmured, and then tentatively hugged her. Makoto sniffled as she attempted to hold back her tears. “I know, Makoto,” Mitsuru whispered. “I know how you feel. I lost my father when I was a third year in high school.”

“You did?” Makoto asked, as awestruck as her crying self allowed her to be.

“I did. It was hard. I’m sure Akihiko could tell you about it, and about how worried he was. I still miss my father, even now. A loss is not something so easily forgotten, but you can move on. You can do what they were never able to do, and do it for their sake. My friend told me this while I was mourning my father.”

Makoto hugged Mitsuru tighter, as if the single motion could send the demons of the past running away forever.

“Stay strong, Makoto. The grief may never pass, but you will be able to move beyond it. I believe in you.” Mitsuru murmured, still stroking her hand along the back of Makoto’s head. She paused and then pulled away. “Give me a moment.”

Makoto wiped at her tear-stained cheeks and watched Mitsuru dig through her vanity. For the second time shame overcame her, hot and unrelenting. Mitsuru was doing so much to help her already. She didn’t need to care for Makoto beyond what she had already provided.

But she was.

The shame faded at that realization, and vanished altogether like shadows in the light when Mitsuru approached Makoto with a blue headband in her hand.

“Here,” Mitsuru said, tucking the headband into Makoto’s hair. “This is a headband I used to wear when I was in middle school. I never got rid of it. I’m glad I didn’t.”

Makoto kept her eyes down, running a hand self-consciously along her head. She didn’t belong in this, didn’t deserve to wear something Mitsuru had worn.

“Keep your chin up, Makoto,” Mitsuru commanded. Makoto lifted her head to meet Mitsuru’s eyes and Mitsuru nodded, a warm smile on her face. “Perfect. Just like that. I’ll always be with you, Makoto. Stay strong.”

Makoto threw her arms around Mitsuru’s neck, a feeling of overwhelming courage bubbling up inside her. “Thank you,” Makoto breathed, her voice muffled slightly by Mitsuru’s shoulder.

“Of course,” Mitsuru replied, rubbing the back of Makoto’s head.

So she ignored the stares she got the next day as Mitsuru drove her to school on a motorcycle, ignored the shadowy thoughts and phantasmal dreams that attempted to haunt her from her previous day and her previous years. A boy with brown hair and eyes alight with excitement stood outside her classroom and waved once she approached him.

“Hi,” he said, smiling. “I’m Amada Ken. I’ve heard about you from Mitsuru-senpai and Sanada-san.” He offered his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” she replied, her voice firm as she took his hand and smiled back.

~ / . / . / ~

Makoto could barely hold back a smile when she walked downstairs into the kitchen and was greeted with Sae, Akihiko, and Mitsuru, all standing around the dinner table which was filled with her favorite dishes. In the middle was a candlelit cake, accentuated by the dimmed lights of the kitchen.

“Happy birthday.” Sae smiled. “My sister really is growing up.”

Makoto threw her arms around Sae’s torso and squeezed. “I love you.” Sae laughed and hugged her back.

“I love you too, Makoto.”

When she raised her head, she swallowed. “...It’s my first birthday without Dad.”

Sae smiled bittersweetly. “It is.”

“It’s… strange.”

“I’m sure it is,” Sae murmured comfortingly, brushing a strand of hair off of Makoto’s face.

“But… it’ll be okay.” Makoto managed a smile and eased away from her sister. Sae smiled back. The haunted look in her sister’s eyes was no more, hidden by bright excitement.

“I’m proud of you,” Sae murmured, pressing a hand to Makoto’s cheek briefly. Makoto’s lips curled into a brighter smile. “Come. Let’s eat.”

Makoto sat down next to Sae, slightly unwilling to let her sister go. Sae wrapped an arm around her as they sang happy birthday, smiling. A sudden chill passed through the room and the hairs on the back of Makoto’s neck stood up, as though detecting that an unknown presence was passing by. A phantom, perhaps.

(Her father).

She hugged Sae closer, and saw the clear joy on her sister’s face, illuminated by the candlelight and contrasted by the shadows. For a moment, everything felt right.

~ / . / . / ~

“Tell Sae to come here,” Mitsuru told the maid, holding tight to the envelope and letter opener she had just been handed. The maid nodded and left the dining room.

Makoto glanced up from where she was standing by the dinner table, finishing the small snack Mitsuru’s maids had prepared for her. Mitsuru smiled and gestured for Makoto to come stand beside her. Makoto did, leaning into Mitsuru when she wrapped her arm around Makoto.

“Mitsuru?” Sae questioned as she appeared in the dining room entrance.

“This arrived in the mail today.” Mitsuru offered the envelope and a letter opener. Sae took them both, glancing over the letter before her eyes widened.

“Tokyo Special Investigations Unit…?” Sae repeated breathlessly. Makoto squeaked slightly, watching with wide eyes as Sae cut open the envelope and removed the letter with shaky hands.

Sae took in a deep breath before setting her eyes upon the letter and beginning to read.

Her face brightened immediately, chasing away the shadows of doubt. “I did it,” Sae whispered, and set down the letter. “I’m a prosecutor!”

Makoto screamed with joy, throwing her arms around Sae’s week. Warmth bubbled in her heart, seemingly lighting up the world. “You did it!” Makoto cried. Sae spun her around, holding her tight. Makoto laughed, leaning back to look her sister in the eye when Sae set her down. “Dad… he would be proud.”

Sae smiled and nodded. “Yes, he would.”

“Congratulations, Sae,” Mitsuru said, smiling.

“Thank you,” Sae responded, pulling away from Makoto to bow deeply. “I could not have done any of this without your help, truly.”

Mitsuru shook her head. “I did not do anything. It was all by your own merits, Sae.” Mitsuru glanced at the letter, a warm smile on her face. “It seems they are offering you a position in Tokyo, are they not?”

“Yes, they are. We will probably have to move there soon… most likely after Makoto graduates middle school.”

Makoto swallowed, trying not to let the disappointment filling her senses show on her face. Sae ruffled her hair.

“We still have time, Makoto.”

The sound of whistling coming towards the dining room made Mitsuru move, meeting Akihiko with a soft kiss and a gentle greeting.

“Sae has some news,” Mitsuru informed. Akihiko’s eyebrows raised.

“I’m officially a prosecutor,” Sae said, her eyes alight with excitement. “I got a job offer to work in Tokyo.”

Akihiko pulled her into a one-armed hug, grinning. “Oh my god, Sae. You’re amazing.”

Sae hugged him back, chuckling. “Thank you.”

“Come on, we should take a picture,” Akihiko said, handing a nearby maid his cell phone. Makoto yelped when he pulled her close with one arm and managed to wrap his other arm around both Sae and Mitsuru. Sae laughed, an amused look on her face, while Mitsuru pressed a hand to her forehead.

“Akihiko—”

“Say cheese!” Akihiko said.

Makoto made the picture her lock screen as soon as she received it. Something about it made the world seem brighter and chased out the shadows she had once feared.

~ / . / . / ~

Makoto stared out the window of the limousine, watching the skyscrapers and crowds of people pass by in a blur. Her hand twitched, fisting into her skirt.

“That’s Shujin Academy,” Sae murmured, pointing out her window. When Makoto looked, it had already passed. A hand rested on her shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“Good,” she said, as confidently as she could. Akihiko shared a glance with Mitsuru. Makoto turned to look at them. “What?”

Akihiko shook his head. “It’s…” he trailed off, and then cleared his throat. “It’s nothing.” Still, the look on his face persisted.

“We’ve arrived,” the chauffeur informed, pulling the limousine to a stop. Akihiko stood, letting the chauffeur hold the door open as he helped Mitsuru out. Makoto shielded her eyes for a moment when the sunlight fell upon her face, and then let it drop.

The sunlight had never been her enemy, unlike the shadows.

“The truck should only be twenty minutes behind,” Mitsuru informed. “For now, let us introduce you to the owner of the house.” She led them up the driveway.

“Shinji!” Akihiko was already knocking on the door, calling loudly.

“Akihiko,” Mitsuru scolded, walking hastily to his side. “Don’t be so rude.”

“Can’t ya listen to Mitsuru for once in your life, Aki?” The door swung open, revealing a tall, gangly man. The shadows of the house seemed to cling to him, filling in all the creases in his peacoat. “Can’t believe I agreed to move in with ya.”

“Oh, shut up.” Akihiko threw an arm around Shinjiro, pulling him into a hug. Shinjiro, after a moment, hugged him back stiffly.

“Shinjiro,” Mitsuru greeted, smiling. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he grunted, and then waved awkwardly. “Hi. I’m Aragaki Shinjiro.”

“I’m Niijima Sae. Thank you very much for your help.” Sae bowed deeply.

“I’m Niijima Makoto,” Makoto greeted confidently, and bowed.

“Sorry I couldn’t help ya more. I don’t have much.”

“What you have offered is already more than enough,” Sae replied, smiling. “We have things that we would not like to get rid of, anyways. I’m sure we can fill up this house quickly enough with no extra cost.”

“Alright. Here’s the keys,” Shinjiro said, and pressed them into Sae’s outstretched hands. “There’re three copies, but you could always make more if ya need it.”

Sae nodded and glanced to Makoto. Without another word exchanged between them, they entered the house. Makoto walked on confidently, ignoring the phantoms lurking in the shadows. Sae put her phone away and turned to her when they entered the kitchen.

“Here.” Sae offered her a hair tie. “It’ll be hot, and we have quite a lot of moving and unpacking to do.”

Makoto took it, nodding. Pulling all her hair into a ponytail, she drummed her fingers on the kitchen counter as she looked around. The low rumbling of the garage door opening mere minutes of silent observation later indicated that the moving truck had arrived.

“I’m going to help put everything in the garage,” Sae said.

“Okay.” Sae left, but another set of footsteps drew her attention to the dining room. Akihiko appeared and walked toward her, seemingly pausing for a moment when he saw her hair tied up. Mitsuru followed, although she stayed near where the dining room turned into the kitchen.

“Hey.” Akihiko placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him. “We love you, Makoto. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I do. I love you two as well.”

“Good.” Akihiko cleared his throat and hugged her. Makoto could have sworn there were tears welling up in his eyes. “Good,” he murmured again, and left. She stared at him, blinking. Mitsuru let Akihiko brush past her and smiled at Makoto, something bittersweet in it. She opened her mouth to say something.

“Makoto!” Sae called from the garage. “Come bring the boxes into the house!” Mitsuru shook her head and gestured for Makoto to go. When Makoto returned, both of them were gone.

“Do you need help with the other boxes?” Makoto questioned. Sae set one down and nodded, brushing some loose hair behind her ear.

“Could you get Akihiko-san or Aragaki-san?”

Makoto nodded and left, following the sound of voices outside of the dim house and into the bright backyard.

“Thank you, Shinjiro,” Mitsuru was saying. “Are you coming to the reunion next week?”

“If I can find time. I’ll contact ya,” he replied. 

“Try your best,” Akihiko said. “That will probably be the last time you see Mitsuru for the year.”

Shinjiro grunted in understanding. “That’s right. You’re goin’ back to America, aren’t ya?” Before Mitsuru could answer the question Shinjiro saw Makoto out of the corner of his eye, and an unreadable emotion came over his face before he regained control and waved awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Hello,” Makoto greeted. “Sis needs a bit of help.”

“I’ll handle it.” With a nod to Mitsuru and a squeeze of Shinji’s shoulder, Akihiko left. Makoto fell into step beside him, feeling Shinjiro’s gaze on her.

“Aragaki-san is very kind,” Makoto noted. Akihiko chuckled lowly.

“Yeah,” was all he responded with. Makoto wondered if there was something else hidden in the word.

~ / . / . / ~

“I told Mitsuru and Akihiko they don’t need to send any more money,” Sae said, one cold winter day during Makoto’s second year.

Makoto blinked and looked up at her sister, who was washing the dishes.

“But that means I’ll have to work more often.” Sae’s voice was barely audible over the sound of running water.

“Oh. Okay.”

Sae cast a look over her shoulder at Makoto. Makoto’s stomach stirred with unpleasant emotions.

~ / . / . / ~

Makoto stared at the picture. Ever since she’d moved to Tokyo, her lock screen had not changed; it was still the same picture of Akihiko holding all three of them tightly in triumph as Sae looked on with amusement and Mitsuru held her hand to her forehead in exasperation.

They had led her this far. Surely, they could lead her further.

“Makoto?” Mitsuru questioned when she picked up.

“I… are you free right now?”

“What is the matter?”

“I—I simply need someone to talk to. And… I don’t know. It all feels so wrong, and I—”

“I am on my way right now,” Mitsuru interrupted. “I’ll be there in the morning. Leave the house early. We’ll speak before you go to school.” Her voice became gentle. “Stay strong, Makoto.”

“...I’ll do my best,” she replied. When Mitsuru hung up, she covered her face with her hands and sat, curled up on her bed. She didn’t dare close her eyes, out of fear of the old shadows from past days.

She almost cried when she saw Mitsuru standing outside of their house gate.

(Oh, Makoto. Remember your third year in middle school?, something in the back of her mind whispered—it didn’t sound like her own voice.)

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out as soon as Mitsuru was within earshot.

“What are you saying?” Mitsuru questioned, her expression gentle.

“I mean, you must be busy and yet you flew all the way up here just because I wanted to talk to you.”

“You usually speak with Sae about your troubles. If you’re asking to see me, something major must have happened.”

Makoto bit her lip, her eyes welling up somewhere. Mitsuru placed a hand on Makoto’s shoulder.

“Come,” Mitsuru urged with a soft voice. “We should go somewhere private to speak.”

Makoto nodded. “I… know a place,” she murmured in a soft voice.

“Open this early?” Mitsuru asked, raising an eyebrow.

“It is the sleepless city for a reason,” Makoto responded, smiling slightly.

They sat in the restaurant twenty minutes later, cups of tea and small Japanese sweets in front of them. Makoto kept her gaze on the sunlight streaming through the window next to their table, trying her best to ignore the shadows.

Still, even Mitsuru could only hold back the darkness for so long.

Mitsuru curled her fingers around the teacup. “Now,” she murmured, “what’s wrong?”

“...It’s Sis,” Makoto ran a finger along the rim of her cup. “We just had an argument, and she… she said I was useless, and that I was just eating away at her, and…” She rubbed the back of her hand against her eyes, trying to get rid of the tears that she knew were forming.

Mitsuru’s hand closed around Makoto’s wrist, easing Makoto’s hand away. “What else did Sae say?”

“She… she said I need to grow up, and that I—I need to accept our situation and—and start doing some—something about it, and I…!”

“Sae has changed,” Mitsuru murmured, holding Makoto’s hand and running her finger along Makoto’s hand. “She never would have said something like that years ago.”

“I… I know,” Makoto whispered, tightening her grip. Their hands, clasped together, were outlined with shadows. “But… why…?”

“I suspect… it is because of her job.” Mitsuru let out a sigh. “Akihiko even warned her about this…”

“I… do you think I can ever change her?”

“If she has already turned on that which is most precious to her… I do not know.”

“And I’ve heard rumors that… that she’s twisting verdicts, conducting harsh interrogations, and pressing false charges, just so she can keep her position.”

Mitsuru shook her head. “I would not so readily believe rumors about your sister unless you know it to be true.”

Makoto bit her lip and sighed, her gaze drifting to the darkness on the edge of the table. “Yes, but I’m just worried that Sis… Sis is not upholding the reasons why she became a prosecutor in the first place. And I… I don’t know. I feel lost.”

“How so?”

“It’s just… I feel like I’ve lost my courage. I don’t want to fight her. I **can’t** fight her, but… I have to, and I… I’ve lost the courage I need to do it.”

“Makoto,” Mitsuru began, staring her in the eyes. Every part of her face was bright with light, the shadows extinguished by her mere presence. “You must fight to make the world yours. I could have accepted an arranged marriage, and passed on control of the Kirijo Group to a man of another company.”

“But you didn’t,” Makoto whispered. Mitsuru smiled.

“I didn’t. I fought and made the world mine. Yes, there are inevitable parts—accidents, tragedy, death. Yet, not a day goes by that I regret my choice. The path of strife… well, there is a reason I decided to tread it. But for you, Makoto…” Mitsuru’s smile widened. “You will find yourself, and you will change her.”

Mitsuru drove her to school that morning, the shadows of trees and buildings and people passing them by as they forged onwards. And when Makoto saw the terrified and awed faces of the students who saw her coming to the academy, she felt that she really had a new resolve.

~ / . / . / ~

(Have you decided to tread the path of strife…?, that something whispered.)

“Yes… come!” The words slipped out of her lips without a second thought. What did that even mean?

_**Very well.** _

That something echoed in her mind, loud and omnipotent. A voice? Persona? That was the word that was coming to mind and—

_**Let us proceed with our contract at once.** _

Darkness crowded her vision and her head hurt, oh, it hurt it hurt—what was this on her face a mask? Get it off get it off fucking get it **OFF** —

Somehow, Makoto wasn’t surprised that her Persona ended up being a motorcycle.

~ / . / . / ~

She heard them before she saw them, the roars of a motorcycle coming to a stop and dying down.

“Now who could that be?” Sojiro questioned, stroking his beard. “A motorcyclist, outside my cafe?” He cast a look at Akira, who shook his head. Makoto set down her pen, sighing. The rest of the Phantom Thieves glanced up at her.

“How did they even…” Makoto muttered under her breath as she stood up.

“Who is it?” Ann asked, taking a sip of her iced coffee.

“You don’t know them. Or, well, you might.” Makoto made her way to the door as it opened, the bell chiming. “What are you two doing?”

Akihiko turned over his shoulder. “I told you we wouldn’t be able to surprise her. Especially not with your motorcycle,” he called to Mitsuru, who was still shaking her hair free of her helmet. His face softened with gentle affection. “You’ve grown so much.”

“It’s only been four years,” she stated, holding her hands on her hips in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. Akihiko laughed.

“If I’d told you that four years ago, you would’ve looked at the ground and barely managed to get out a ‘thank you’.”

“Who told you I was here?”

“Sae,” Mitsuru supplied as she entered the store. “She must be busy. She said she couldn’t even spare time to have lunch with us.”

“No wa—tha—Kiri—!” Makoto heard Futaba whisper. Akira’s eyes widened.

“Are you—” Ryuji began to yell, before Futaba and Ann tackled him to shut him up.

“Not so loud!” Futaba hissed, not being very quiet herself. Akihiko raised an eyebrow, glancing over Makoto’s head at the scrambling Phantom Thieves behind her.

“You all,” Makoto stated, turning around, “are not good at hiding.”

Akira quirked an eyebrow, surely about to retort with something about “how come we’re Phantom Thieves then?”, but didn’t, just shrugged.

“I am not,” Yusuke agreed, completely oblivious to the situation. “In fact, my height makes it—”

“Shut up, Inari!” Futaba cut in, and stomped on his foot for good measure. Yusuke, indeed, stopped talking.

“...I’m going now,” Makoto announced as she took up her bag.

“Okay,” Akira said, a little too quickly.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Mitsuru inquired. Ann coughed violently, and Akira started mid-sip. Makoto held a hand over her eyes, exasperation running through her veins. Sometimes, she wondered how she’d ended up being the “team mom”, as Futaba called her.

“...This is Sanada Akihiko, and yes, this is Kirijo Mitsuru. Stop freaking out.”

“Um, you can’t just tell us to effin’ do that!” Ryuji protested.

“Can we—” Ann began, but Makoto cut her off.

“We’re going now.”

“Wait, no—”

“Mom!” Futaba whined. Akihiko wheezed, and Makoto turned to see holding a hand to his mouth, shaking with laughter as Mitsuru glared at him, an exasperated look on her face. Makoto glanced back at Akira.

“You’re in charge, leader,” she said. He nodded sternly, and Makoto turned around, her hand tight on her bag. “Should we go?”

Mitsuru nodded, a strange look in her eyes. “That boy…” Mitsuru began when they left the café. “You called him leader…”

“It’s—it’s a joke,” Makoto stuttered. “He’s always the charismatic one, but he’s very bad at leading people.” That was horseshit and anyone who barely recognized Akira knew it, but she couldn’t risk anything. If she couldn’t tell her sister, she couldn’t tell anyone—although nowadays, not being able to tell her sister anything seemed to be rather commonplace. And, as much as she wanted to tell them, they surely would not believe her.

“Ah. I see.” Still, that strange, shadowy look remained. Makoto frowned, but didn’t say anything else. The thoughts and looks that Akihiko and Mitsuru shared would always be like phantoms to her—as much as she tried to chase them, she would never catch them.

Akihiko watched her with a careful eye. “...You’re still wearing a headband, hm?”

“Yes. Not the one Mitsuru gave me. That one became too small, but I… I got used to it,” Makoto admitted, turning back to smile at the two of them. “Um… thank you. For everything you did. For taking on more work at the police force or for leaving college in America one year away from graduation to help us.”

To her surprise, Akihiko laughed, the sunlight dispelling the dark look that he seemed to have gotten from Mitsuru looking the same way. “You really **have** changed.”

Makoto kept her chin high and smiled. “I’m not the little girl you had to help save from nightmares anymore.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I figured.” He smiled back. “Our little sister’s grown up.”

Makoto smiled so wide she felt her cheeks hurt. They really did love her like she had loved them, beyond a shadow of a doubt. The shadows they had protected her from had dispelled, and would never come back.

Akihiko said something in Mitsuru’s ear. She paused, looking Makoto over before the edges of her lips lifted up in a smile. “Is that so?” she responded.

“Is what so?” Makoto asked as she glanced over her shoulder. Walking backwards was a dangerous trick to do, especially in the middle of Tokyo.

“Nothing,” Akihiko answered, but there was something different about the way they looked at her this time.

They had seen someone in her, had always seen someone in her; that someone had always haunted Makoto like a shadow—no, haunted Akihiko and Mitsuru like a shadow. Who it was, Makoto doubted she’d ever know. But there was no doubt that they loved her the same, and that that someone was not a phantom anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points to you if you can see who Mitsuru and Akihiko (and Shinjiro, technically) see in Makoto ;>  
> (hint: another ponytailed brown-haired girl is…?)


End file.
